Bait and Switch
by volkova21
Summary: Hermione has just been given the lead on a case, catching the mysterious criminal known only as Aphrodite due to the angelic description given by her victims. Will Hermione be able to catch her or will she be in over her head?
1. Chapter 1

Well, I know I've got another one going, but this idea kinda popped into my head today. So, I had to at least get it started. This is the first uh bit, and I'll probably have more later, but I'm off to type an update for my other work. This is probably going to be a bit more of a slow burn (and while it may not seem it at first, maybe a bit more of a comedy... or true crime gone wrong?) I'm not set on the title so, idk that may change yet (also, if theres any ideas that anyone has for other stories, send 'em theres a definite shortage of Fleurmione seeing as how I've read most every story and am working on rereading some- I like weird and twisted, not these overdone rewrites of 4th year or Shell Cottage. Not to say I won't if it is something I can play with... change the roles and the likes.)

Without further ado, here it is (oh and I make no money, just playing with not my characters), Chapter 1 of Bait and Switch.

* * *

Hermione walked into work that morning, already bracing herself to hear her boss screeching her name. She'd seen the story gracing the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , her latest failed attempt to catch the criminal known only as Aphrodite, a name gained from their real lack of description of the thief. The victims could really only agree on one thing, they were robbed by a goddess, an angelic form had entered their house and otherwise, they couldn't even describe what they looked like, their memory going foggy and their eyes glazing over.

Hermione was an investigator in this case, but she had stalled out with having no real leads. And so, with a bracing breath, her hand firm upon the cool wooden door, she pushed it open and entered the large bull-pen like room, dodging flying memos shaped like planes, trying to sneak her way to her desk, a hope that her boss would not have noticed her entry.

A hope that she should have known was futile, the room was near deserted and so her presence would not go unnoticed. "Granger! My office! Now!" A high pitched shriek rang out. Her boss, Amelia Bones, was a severe looking woman, her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, increasing the gaunt appearance of her face, her brown eyes cold and calculating, watching every slight movement, it was no wonder that she was the head of the department. She did not like to be disappointed and held her subordinates to a high standard, making the exceptionalism Hermione had shown in her years at Hogwarts appear rather average. She was still among one of the youngest in the department, but that only added to the pressure, feeling the need to excel even more, an attempt at proving herself and therefore her worth in the department.

She quickly dipped into her boss's office, trying to take up as small a presence as possible, feeling as though she had been called to the headmaster's office, a feeling she had always dreaded having to experience. Bones's eyes were cold, watching her with a sharp look, she threw down a copy of the morning's _Prophet_ , the headline reading "Aphrodite strikes again, has she caught the eye of the Ministry as well?" A hand drawn picture of a goddess was shown while the Minister was making heart eyes in an overly cartoonish manner.

Hermione muttered a curse under her breath. "Got a plan Granger? We needed this solved yesterday."

"One, albeit, not the best one, but I think, the only thing we can do is set up a trap. Stage a ruse and hope it draws her in and catch her in the act."

"And what makes you think that would work this time? She got away when Zabini tried it."

"Well, I have a theory, that since all of her victims are male, her abilities only affect men, so, if we would use a female, they may be able to catch her. Maybe she can't do... whatever it is she does to rob them."

"So I assume you'll be volunteering for that?"

This caught Hermione off-guard, she hadn't been expecting to be given such a prominent role, even if it was her plan. She was still too fresh from training and had landed a role in this case solely by luck as each time Aphrodite struck, more resources had been devoted. By this point, she'd struck so many times that at least half the department was focused solely on catching her.

"Uh, y-yeah, of course, I'd be glad to."

"Great," Bones said, leaning forward over her desk, "use whoever you need, I want results Granger, and soon."

Hermione nodded her acquiescence and stood there nervously, her right hand twitching at her side, a nervous tick she hadn't been able to shake. Bones sat down behind her desk, focused on her paperwork, and noticing no movement from Granger looked up at her, "Dismissed," was all she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Hermione disappeared from the room as quickly as she entered, hoping not to disturb anything. She quickly made her way down the hall to the other room that held the rest of the aurors, when she became a detective she was moved to another division while Harry and Ron had had to stay behind. However, since she had been given approval, she was going to formulate the rest of the plan with their assistance, she couldn't trust anyone else's judgement, not with something as important as this, if she was able to solve it, it would make her career and solidify her place with the rest of the detectives.

This other room was just as big as hers, but there were more desks packed into it since the department was larger, but these aurors spent much less time at their desks, instead patrolling the streets the majority of the day, following up on petty crimes and instances of muggles wandering into magical areas or discovering magical items.

To an extent she missed this, it was a simpler time, but it definitely did not provide her with much of a challenge, though she was surrounded by more of her friends here. She had been able to achieve more and stand out among this crowd, maintaining her school image.

She found Harry and Ron sitting at their desks, facing each other, Ron leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on a pile of paperwork on his desk, straightening out the bent tip on the paper airplane in his hands, talking cheerily with Harry who was bent over his desk, fingers stained with ink, filling out a last minute report.

Hermione was able to make it over to them without being noticed, something she observed with a bit of enjoyment, she cleared her throat behind Ron, who out of fear of being caught (once again) slacking by his boss, sat up straight with a start, his feet slipping off his desk sending the pile of papers flying. Harry looked up from his work and let out a chuckle seeing none other than Hermione standing there. "Mate, relax, it's just Hermione."

She couldn't help but feign offense to that, letting out a scoff and placing her hand over her heart, "Just Hermione?"

"No offense, but you have nothing on Mad Eye," Ron added on quickly, "That guy is nightmare fuel."

"Don't remind me, I haven't been out of here that long."

"Yeah, well, I think he's worse now that you're gone."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's statement, "No, he's only worse now that I'm not doing your reports."

Harry finally sat his quill down, finishing up the last of his report, he sat back in his chair and regarded Hermione with a warm smile, "What brings you down here anyways Hermione? Anything we can do for you?" He'd always been like a brother to her, looking out for her like she looked out for him, Ron just kind of always felt like he was along for the ride, not that she disliked him, he just liked the easy way out of work.

"Yeah, there is actually, I was hoping you could help me with catching Aphrodite."

Ron couldn't help the look of surprise that came across his features, "Wow, 'Mione, that's your case? The _Prophet'_ s been butchering our detectives on it."

"Don't remind me, look, I just got tasked with it, and I've got a plan but I'll need your help."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione pulled up a chair from one of the unoccupied desks near by, a slight scraping on the floor echoing in the room, she slid in from the side, knees bumping the edge of the desk, her arms bent in front of her, fingers laced and resting upon her chin, a pensive look crossed her face as she spoke in a low voice. "I'm going to be her next victim," the words stark against the near silence of the rest of the room, a shocked look crossing the boys faces.

"What? You can't be serious 'Mione, that's dangerous!" Ron couldn't control himself. Harry could only nod in agreement.

"I am. It's the only thing that hasn't been tried yet. She only robs men though, I think there's a reason behind that, so I'll need to create a ruse, and I'll need to use Grimmauld Place, Harry."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you need, Hermione. What's the plan?"

She leaned in conspiratorially, grabbing a blank piece of parchment from Ron's desk, drawing out images and making notes. The two boys caught in rapt attention. The plan was really quite simple they had to admit and were surprised that it hadn't already been tried. They would create an image of a rich wizard that had just moved to the area and throw a huge party for other elites at Grimmauld Place, hoping that the thief would show up. The guests would be a mixture of Ministry officials and aurors. Later, the guests would all leave and the aurors would stay close by while Harry and Ron stayed behind, waiting for anything to happen. Hermione, who would be impersonating the rich wizard, would be the presumed target of Aphrodite. She would attempt to do whatever it is she does, and Harry and Ron would barge in and arrest her.

There was only one issue, who Hermione was going to impersonate with a Polyjuice potion.

"What about Blaise?"

"Malfoy?"

"Neville?"

"Theo?"

Hermione shook her head in the negative to all of their suggestions, to which Ron threw his hands in the air and let out an exasperated sigh, "You've got to pick someone 'Mione."

Harry, a thoughtful look on his face, his bottom lip caught in his teeth, paused his musings for a moment, "Actually..." he stopped, his sentence trailing off, before he started again, "If this is supposed to be a new wizard, wouldn't it be safer if we didn't use someone that exists but created a new identity?"

Hermione couldn't help but agree with that thought, it was risky after all to use someone that Aphrodite could possibly recognize, or more importantly, that would give them an additional body there to help them. If Hermione had impersonated someone else, they wouldn't be able to appear at the party and would become essentially useless and it would be better to have more help just in case.

And that was how Hermione found herself creating her new image with the help of Harry and Ron, so far they had decided upon short brown hair that would be styled into a messy look, similar to Harry's with a 5 o'clock shadow, in an attempt to masculinize her face. She would have to bind her chest and wear multiple layers, they'd decided she would wear a vest and tie but no coat and some form fitting (though not overly tight) black jeans and boots (to add some height). Hermione hoped that she would look masculine and wealthy when all was said and done. Most of the clothes would have to come from a muggle shop, but as long as she was able to pull off the image successfully, she would make do.

Their plan was to come to fruition that Friday night, giving them exactly 4 days to solidify the details of their plan and ensure that people would be there, and most importantly Aphrodite. With no real way to contact her, and without making it seem overly obvious that this would be a trap, they just had to have hope that news would spread, and so they set about the rumor mill, sending it into overdrive.

This left Hermione to spend the rest of the time, nervously second guessing all her decisions as she readied her image and attempted to make several public appearances as her new persona. To make this believable, she had temporarily moved into Grimmauld Place and had to live for days on end, leading to buying multiple outfits, finding her comfort and living as... she still had not decided upon a name, something as simple as a name, but it had to fit her. It just had to, and she couldn't find one. She tried to draw inspiration from history, mixing names together, and after several attempts (read: a couple days), it was now pushing midnight the night before the celebration. She picked some names at random, and decided upon Josiah Cornelius Blane for the name of her new persona.

Now all she could do was ready herself and her nerves for the coming day. And hopefully their work would pay off and she would meet the elusive Aphrodite.


	3. Chapter 3

And so the day was here, Friday had arrived without great fanfare, slipping quietly into place, and her plan was working out quite nicely. The rumor mill, namely Lavender and Parvati, had gone into overdrive, their underappreciated skills from Hogwarts now working to their advantage. Hermione was subtly surprised (she couldn't let them know just how impressed she was with their ability), but her persona had even had a quick article written in the _Prophet_ advertising London's newest eligible bachelor, recently moved from the mysterious land of America (she had chuckled at that one, and begun to practice her American accent), was hosting a soiree in an attempt to find a suitable bride.

The details that had been given made Hermione laugh out loud, there had been a photo of a silhouette included, and after describing some details of this hidden newcomer who, was still unnamed, citing a "lack of reliable sources" and a "need for privacy" the article, written by Rita Skeeter herself (because of course it would be her), had gone on to try and find a suitable bachelorette. Some of the name Hermione couldn't help but smile at while others made her grimace, somehow Pansy Parkinson had made the list (a definite grimace, well maybe a gag at that one), while she laughed at Ginny having made the list as well, along with Padma Patil and Angelina Johnson among others.

She couldn't help the laugh at the image of her with any of these women, at least the ones she knew seemed ridiculous, but there were some names she wasn't familiar with. She assumed they had gone to one of the other magical schools. Hermione folded up the paper and tossed it off to the side, she'd resume reading the rest of the paper later, but now, it was time to finish the final preparations.

Grimmauld Place no longer looked abandoned as it had in years past, gone were the cobwebs and layers of dust, however much of the furniture looked dated and the place still seemed unwelcoming and unlived in. While the image was that she had just moved in, she couldn't have it look abandoned either and so she set about tidying the place, updating the furniture and assisting the caterers (who were actually recently graduated aurors) in establishing their roles.

Finally, evening was approaching, and Hermione set about to get ready for the night, her nerves starting to get the best of her, she took a quick sip of a calming draught to steady her nerves and dressed in her outfit she'd picked at the beginning of the week. It was nearly five when the first guests began to arrive (of course they'd all been told to come at different times).

There was a knock at the door and Hermione went to answer it, checking her appearance in the mirror in the entryway. She quickly patted herself down, hoping everything stayed in place before opening the door with a wide smile. There stood Harry and Ginny arm in arm, with Ron and his date, Katie Bell behind them.

Hermione quickly pulled Ginny into a hug "Ginny, it's so good to see you again, how have you been?" Hermione's new found masculine voice, a deep gravelly sound, taking her by surprise as well as Ginny and reminded her that she was unfamiliar to this redhead, she whispered "It's me, Hermione."

With a visible look of relief, she returned Hermione's hug, "I didn't recognize you like that. It's been a while hasn't it?" And the two were off to catch up while Ron, Harry and Katie were left to wander the house, taking in their surroundings. Slowly, more guests began to trickle in, and by 8 pm the house was packed, but there was still no sign of the secretive Aphrodite.

Hermione was able to successfully mingle with the crowd, maintaining her new image, fluttering around like a social butterfly, so unlike the typical bookish nerd they were used to in their schooldays. Despite being entirely out of her element, Hermione had developed a strange sort of confidence and at many points in the night had a different woman on her arm, secretly enjoying the attention she received.

In part this was due to the fact she felt free to be herself, able to openly flirt with the women who deemed her worthy of their attentions, she knew it was most insincere, but it was a feeling that she had not had before, often overlooked due to her plain appearance on most days. She wasn't unattractive by any means, but she didn't have the ability to captivate the room, draw their attention to her, she lacked the confidence to approach other women, knowing that it would most likely end with her rejection, and so she had withdrawn into herself.

But here, with this image, she was the object of their desire, they were coming to her and she was the one able to reject them. She had even commented on the role reversal with Ginny earlier on in the evening, finding herself back in the company of her friends. She wasn't able to spend much time with them without drawing too much suspicion and so she had disappeared many times in the night, solely meeting up to quickly discuss suspicious actions and who to observe throughout the night. This was first and foremost an undercover operation.

At least, it was until she saw an unfamiliar blonde, one that she hadn't remembered inviting. But she didn't look out of place among the crowd, if anything she seemed almost too elegant for the Ministry officials surrounding her. Her long blonde hair trailing down her back, a light blue formfitting dress hugging her curves, one long slit coming up the side to her upper thigh, revealing just enough skin to be distracting and enticing to the men she talked to. Her voice sounding like a chorus of angels, a slight French accent hinting at the edges of her voice. Her smile, lighting up her features, and at once Hermione was hooked.

She was speechless, her nerves building back up, her throat had suddenly gone dry and she was lost. A warm feeling building in her chest, if she didn't know better, she would say it felt like love. This angel, this siren for lack of better words, looked over at Hermione, a smile playing at her lips and her blue eyes sparkling in the light reflected off them, and gave her a small, nervous wave. And Hermione froze in her spot, she was gone, hr mind had failed her and she didn't understand how she could have missed seeing this beauty come in earlier, but there was one thing she did know, she had to know her. She had to become the object of her affections and her desires, she wanted to be closer to her, to touch her, feel her, hear her voice, she wanted to know her, and she had to do it now.

It felt like she was drowning, every second that passed without her love, she couldn't breathe, she felt like she was choking, her clothes feeling too tight, her skin crawling as though she needed a fix, her mind was focused solely on the woman in front of her as everything else blurred, and she made her way through the crowd, swiftly grabbing two glasses of champagne off a nearby serving tray. She approached her love, her mysterious woman, her as of yet unnamed future wife, interrupting her conversation with some man that wasn't her. Jealousy lashed out at the man who was talking to her, she didn't know who it was, nor did she care in that moment, she needed her woman.

And so she started with the only thing that came to mind, her first words to her future would be "I do so hope you are enjoying yourself this evening." A shy smile playing upon her lips, she offered one of the glasses to this unknown guest.

A slight pause, and with a smile, her guest took the glass delicately between her long slender fingers, "Of course, this is a wonderful party and with such a gracious host." Mischief played in her eyes momentarily as she coyly sipped on the champagne.

Hermione smiled, the sound of the object of her affections igniting a fire within, she could drown in the smooth velvet that was her love's voice. Feeling that warmth turn into a burning, she now understood how Icarus could fly so close to the sun as she found hers. She offered her hand to the blonde beauty, "Josiah Blane, at your service." She said with a smirk and a slight bow. The blonde placed her fingers lightly in Hermione's hand, her touch ghosting across Hermione's skin, sending shivers up her spine, "Fleur Delacour."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Delacour, might I show you around?" This time she offered her arm, and found the blonde accepting of it, her grip loose and her touch gentle, Hermione led Fleur away from the crowd, her mind too busy celebrating her victory at gaining the attention of the object of her desire to listen to the warnings that would have otherwise been going off.

She led them around the house, easy conversation flowing between them before Fleur leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Do you think we could go somewhere more private?" Her fingertips trailing up Hermione's arm suggestively as her body pressed against Hermione's.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione felt her body flush with the suggestion hidden within that question. "Erm, yeah, right this way," she hurriedly pulled Fleur towards one of the bedrooms, unable to keep her hands off the delectable beauty in front of her, especially with the direction things were heading between them, her guise forgotten along the way. She shut the door behind her, and with it her last bit of propriety was lost.

Hermione's lips quickly found their way to Fleur's, their bodies pressing against each other, Fleur against the door with Hermione wrapped around her. Fleur's shock quickly faded and she pushed Hermione back towards the bed, hungrily devouring her, listening to Hermione praising her beauty between kisses. It wasn't until Hermione felt the bed against the back of her legs that she realized what was going on, her senses temporarily restored between the delirium brought on by Fleur's touch and panic rose in her chest. It was too late to stop now, not that she wanted to.

But that panic was soon forgotten as her love climbed upon her lap, straddling her, deepening their kisses, an intense hunger taking over them both. Hermione was pushed back upon the bed and too late she realized her mistake as the witch over her pulled out her wand, a whispered " _Petrificus Totalus,_ my sweet," was the last thing to be said, a self-satisfied smirk across Fleur's face.

Hermione was frozen there on the bed, unable to move as Fleur slowly got up, straightening her clothes and wiping off her excessively smeared lipstick. Hermione could only silently curse herself as she was forced to lay there and watch as Fleur (if that was even her real name) perused her room, opening drawers and rummaging around. Hermione hoped that the boys would be able to figure out who it was and be able to help catch the blonde before she made it too far.

Finding little of interest in this room, Fleur left, her blonde hair flowing gently behind her, even in the middle of a robbery, Hermione still thought she looked elegant, a picture of grace, she was drawn to her. As the distance between the two of them grew she felt an intense longing grow, tearing her apart from the inside. She missed her, and it was slowly going to destroy her (which she realized was absolutely crazy). Her faculties slowly began to return to her, though she was still petrified, left alone with only her thoughts to keep her company. She replayed the entire evening in her mind.

There was nothing of note, she had provided the drinks, there was nothing slipped in it, no whispered spells, no curses, nothing she could find, but she was still inexplicably drawn to the blonde. She would have to do more research, at least now she had a name, Fleur Delacour, a name she thought was bestowed by the gods themselves. The sounds coming from downstairs had begun to die down, and eventually she heard Harry calling for her, but she was unable to respond.

After what seemed like hours, the door opened and someone entered. Hermione could hear their shuffling of robes and followed by Harry's voice " _Rennervate._ " Hermione could move again and all her muscles began to cramp, feeling stiff at being held tense for such a long time. She let out a sigh and pulled herself up off the bed as Harry stood there a questioning look on his face. "She got away huh?"

"Yep," Harry couldn't help but make a popping sound with the 'p'.

Hermione scratched the back of her neck nervously, she looked at the ground out of embarrassment, she had failed after all their planning, "Well, at least we have some more information to go off of, maybe. She told me her name."

"I'm not sure if she got anything, we'll have to check and see if the bait items are still there, but I think that can wait until morning. It's been a long enough night for all of us. I'll give you some time and we can wrap this up in the morning."

Hermione was surprised at how easily he took the lead and nodded her acquiescence, she didn't really want to discuss how she'd been fooled and ended up petrified anyways. It was embarrassing enough as it is without having to admit it to someone else. "Can we not discuss this in front of the others?" she found herself asking meekly.

Harry nodded, "Sure, Hermione, I won't say anything." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "but if you want to talk about it, I'm here," before he pulled her in to a hug she didn't realize she needed. Without the blonde around her mind was surprisingly clear leading her to question what exactly it was that happened. Though there was still a lingering fondness for the blonde thief. She could still feel the ghost of her lips touching her, gliding over her skin, her fingers tracing hidden paths across her body.

"I don't know what happened. Suddenly, she was all that mattered, like I couldn't focus on anything but her, and I was jealous, anyone who took her attention for a second, I instantly disliked. But nobody else seemed to be affected."

"You'll figure it out, I've got faith in you 'Mione."

"It was definitely her though. There's no doubt about that. I think I knew it was her from the second I saw her. She... she looked like a goddess Harry. No other woman has ever caught my eye like that Harry."

Hermione's eyes grew painfully wide in realization and she took off yelling her thanks back to Harry as the brunette disappeared out of Grimmauld Place, the door slamming shut behind her. Harry could only chuckle to himself, recognizing the look for what it was- Hermione had just had a breakthrough.

Hermione raced down the streets, forgetting she could apparate to the Ministry. She had brought several of her books to work and left them there, researching what methods it could possibly have been. She had realized many of the signs she had shown were similar to a love potion.

She grabbed her book on controlled substances and flipped through the sections to find Amortentia. She thought maybe, that somehow she had instead breathed it in, if the potion was made into a spray, then she might not have seen it. But she soon realized that that was impossible and instead made a list of the signs that were noticible, feeling the beginning was the best place to start.

After a couple hours, replaying the entire scene over and over again (thanks to use of the pensieve) she had not seen anything given to her, attached to her, or stuck with by the mysterious Fleur. She also had a better description of the blonde than they had before when she was simply known as Aphrodite.

Her list however, was a different story, as she looked down at the piece of parchment before her, twirling her quill between her fingers. It simply stated " _intense infatuation"_ , _"loss of focus"_ and _"jealousy"_. It all seemed like Amortentia, but it wasn't, she was sure of that. She doubted the blonde could have created a new potion, but that was seeming more and more likely as she stalled out.

Then it struck her, if it wasn't a potion... no... it couldn't be. She paused, telling herself how ridiculous she was being. But there wasn't another option was there? It seemed just as likely as a new potion. She grabbed her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.

She searched through it, looking at everything for even the smallest possibility of having an ability to create attraction, going off of her thought that she was drawn like a siren lured men to their death. But the problem was she wasn't male. Was it possible they could pick and choose who they lured?

She added " _Siren?"_ in a messy scrawl at the bottom of the list and tried to search for more on that possibility, but her book didn't contain anything. She continued searching through all the books that the Ministry kept on mythical beings hoping she would find something but her search was fruitless. There was barely any information available as it was and even less on how their abilities worked.

Hermione jumped awake with a start, something had touched her. She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep at her desk last night, her eyes blurry with a lack of satisfying sleep. "'Mione," the voice spoke again.

"Huh?" She looked over to see Ron standing there, a look of concern evident on his features, two cups of coffee in hand.

"Brought you breakfast." He gestured towards the white paper bag that was now sitting on her desk in front of her and took a sip of his coffee. She took the other cup from his hands and he pulled over a chair and sat down across from her.

"Late night?" He questioned and she only nodded in response.

"Want some help?"

Hermione dug into the paper bag, grabbing one of the pastries it contained at random- a chocolate croissant. Of course. It seemed the French were going to curse her for messing with one of their own, or was it teasing at how she'd lost her mind over an accent and a pair of legs she berated herself for getting so easily distracted.

Ron meanwhile was eyeing her list. "Y'know, she could be a Veela," he said nonchalantly as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"A what?" Hermione in all of her searching had yet to come across this term.

"A Veela. They're like a siren, sort of, well, they can attract people, but they're more like birds than fish. The Bulgarian Quidditch team has 'em for a mascot." He leaned back in his seat after imparting this bit of knowledge on Hermione and took a bite out of the donut he'd fished out of the bag after Hermione.

Hermione, croissant hanging out of her mouth, dove back into the mounds of paperwork and books on her desk, shuffling through, she found the book she was looking for- _The Complete Guide to Mythical Beings_ and flipped through it. She let out an exasperated sigh upon finding nothing. "Useless bit of garbage that is."

"There's not much info on them, think Bill dated one once, maybe he knows something. They're real secretive though. Kept to themselves mostly like the centaurs did I think."

Hermione pulled the croissant from her mouth, "Could you find out for me? If he knows anything it'd help immensely."

"Sure, I'll send him an owl," and with that, Ron got up and left the room, leaving Hermione to her books and her breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: This is going to have a bit of an... alternate history? Basically, im making it up as I go, but, essentially Harry is still famous for defeating Voldemort, and there was no return, Fleur wasn't there for the Triwizard Tournament or someone else was picked entirely, thats how Hermione has no knowledge of veelas/doesnt know her, Bill dated a different veela (who will be introduced in this chapter- not sure how big her role will be but we'll get there when we get there) also, this might be more current time (2010s vs 1990s) but with them all in their 20s or something (because i will admit, as a child reading this, i somehow managed to miss it was a "past" event and placed them in the contemporary, maybe only 5 or 6 years later than book time) and im not sure how much interplay between the worlds there will be. (Seriously, do they just forget that things like pens, TV, the internet or electricity exist? or what about cell phones? i get methods of travel but really, it cant be more convenient to carry parchment, an inkwell and quills around instead of pens and notebooks or a tablet. mini-rant over.)

* * *

Hermione sat patiently at the streetside cafe they had agreed to met at, a coffee sat in front of her, steaming, its delicious aroma enticing, book in hand, propped against the table as she sat back, her arms resting on the aluminum armrests of the chair. An empty chair across from her, taunting in its presence, asking for someone to take seat. She glanced at her watch, quickly, its time reading 10:47. Bill would be here soon. They'd agreed to meet at 11, but she'd arrived early and decided to catch up on some reading. Her legs were crossed at the knee, her leather satchel resting against the leg of the chair. She was comfortable, content to be in her element. The novel in her hands was a muggle classic, _Brave New World_. She found she quite enjoyed reading the classics in her spare time, an activity hearkening back to her muggle roots. Something that she had shied away from since graduating from Hogwarts, rarely seeing her family anymore. The Wizarding World was so much simpler, and she had become easily accustomed to it after receiving her education.

Without having received a muggle education she was unable to work in the muggle sector and thus had been forced to remain in the Wizarding World. But she couldn't help but long for the simplicity of a world without magic at times. She heard footsteps approach and looked up from her book, seeing the grinning face of Bill Weasley standing in front of her. He reached down and pulled out the shiny metal chair, a grating against the cobblestone sidewalk they were on. "Hullo. Ron said you needed help with something?" He questioned, falling back into the chair rather ungracefully, his lanky frame sprawled out, slouching in the chair. A boyish smile across his handsome features, Hermione could barely understand how he was the eldest of the Weasley children when he acted like a teenager still.

Hermione nodded, "How much did he tell you?"

"Barely anything more than that, so prolly easiest to start at the beginning."

"Well, condensed version, I'm trying to solve a case, and I think the criminal may be a Veela, but there's not much information out there and, this might be awkward, but Ron had said he thought you'd been romantically involved with a Veela and could maybe help?" Hermione had said without breathing, the words spewing out of her mouth in a constant stream of word vomit.

Bill chuckled, "Yes, I was romantically involved with a Veela as you so delicately put it. But tell me, why do you think it was one to begin with? They're quite rare in society, keeping to themselves and limiting interactions as much as possible."

Hermione blushed and looked away, "Just... reasons."

Bill slapped the table letting out a hearty laugh and drawing the attention of the surrounding tables, "So, what you're saying is she got you with her thrall?"

"Her what?"

"Her charms you might say. Don't worry if she did Hermione, it's perfectly natural and doesn't have to mean anything unless you want it to. Veelas are naturally very sexual beings. I'm not sure of the full story, but what I picked up from my time with Ashleigh was that- you're familiar with the concept of evolution, yes?"

Hermione nodded her head, and looked at Bill expectantly, waiting for him to continue on.

"Right so, this is a bit of a legend at first, Eros- the son of Aphrodite- had been angered by the gods sleeping with everything that moved, creating these impure deities, or demi-gods, making a mockery of love. He then created sirens and mermaids, designed to lure men to their death in a bad imitation of what the other gods were doing with women. I'm not sure of how factual it was, but the sirens had a bird-like appearance. Eventually, they were able to take on a more human-like state and refine their abilities. The siren's song became what we now refer to as a 'thrall' or an ability to draw an intended target, or victim, towards them. It can be used as a defensive mechanism in times of danger or, on the offensive to draw in victims without a fight. It creates a sense of euphoria within the intended target and disarms them, they approach as though drawn in by magnets and can only focus on the Veela who is luring them. The longer they spend in their company, or stronger the thrall unleashed, the more focused their thoughts become, it creates a feeling of lust or possibly love within the victim who will willingly give themselves over with little thought. It can affect anyone regardless of their sexuality."

"So, in theory, they could use it to rob someone without being caught?"

Bill nodded, "You're trying to catch Aphrodite, right? I always thought the name they gave her might have an ironic connection."

"Yeah, it's beginning to seem that way. Is there anything else you know about them?"

"Nope, if there's something specific though, I can always try to get that information for you, Ashleigh and I ended on pretty good terms so she might be willing to help, but they are rather secretive and limit their information so, no guarantees on that."

Hermione pulled her notebook out of her satchel and began scribbling furiously away, adding these new details to the list she'd created earlier, that now had a crossed out " _Siren?_ " and read " _Veela."_ She added a bullet point below that with _"Thrall"_. A note below that read _"Symptoms- see above_ " She drew an arrow to the items she wrote out, her feelings from seeing Fleur. She was pretty sure she was a Veela and had used her Thrall at this point, but she just needed to figure out if that was a real name or if she had used an alias. And then she needed to figure out how to find her again. Bill meanwhile, was sitting there in silence, watching her scribble away.

"You said there aren't many of them, do they know the others in this area? Like would she know if I gave her a name if it belonged to a real person?"

"Maybe," Bill shrugged, "Can always find out. What's the name so I can run it by her?"

"Fleur Delacour," Hermione said seriously, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bill ran his tongue over his teeth, playing with the sounds of the name in his mind, "Sounds French."

"She did have a bit of an accent, I don't know if she has one or if she was playing it up a bit. But it's a possibility that she's French."

Bill stood to leave, "I'll let you know what I find out," were his last words as he turned and walked away, leaving as quickly as he arrived. Hermione, however, was finally feeling as though she was making progress on this case, she just hoped it wasn't for naught.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Don't worry, there'll be some more Fleurmione goodness coming up, because really, it needs some, only one bit of interaction in almost 7k words. Its slow burn alright?

* * *

Hermione scratched absentmindedly at the itch in her side before it migrated to her other side, and then to her leg before she gave out an exasperated sigh. The prolonged itchiness, that was something she'd noticed was increasing as time went on, something that hadn't happened before Friday night, and she somehow wondered if the two were connected. It was that or she was developing an allergy to paperwork, something she had had an endless amount of after that botched attempt at a sting operation. She was really getting tired of it though, there was no doubt about that. And she definitely did not enjoy being relegated to desk duty.

"Ahem," a soft voice came from above her and she looked up, started to see a pair of bright blue eyes attached to a slim face, high cheekbones and full red lips. It was a face she thought she'd never see again, and all of a sudden Hermione felt her cheeks redden as a familiar warmth spread throughout her body.

"Y-you," was all she could manage to stutter, evidently surprised by the appearance of one Fleur Delacour.

Fleur leaned forward, placing one hand palm down, firmly upon Hermione's desk, talking in a hushed voice, "I heard you were looking for me. Though I do not know why. I have not done anything wrong." She spoke with a practiced confidence, an air of superiority around her, her accent still coming through at the edges, most noticible on her th's sounding more as z's and the forced h sound.

"Uh y-yeah. I am," Hermione stood abruptly. She had no idea what to do now, she hadn't thought that her prey would ever in a million years slink into her office, and while she had observed Fleur looking around her room, she had not witnessed her take anything, and would never admit to having been caught off guard by the blonde. There was, she had to admit, a lack of sufficient evidence despite the feeling in her gut telling her that the blonde was guilty.

The blonde, meanwhile, looked at Hermione expectantly, as though there was something else to come. She had, at least, stood up straight when Hermione stood.

"Um, come with me, let's talk somewhere more private?" She motioned with her arm towards the door, guiding her to take the lead. The blonde merely nodded her acceptance of the terms.

Out in the hallway, the blonde waited for Hermione who was stood in the doorway, yelling something back at one of her coworkers before pulling the door shut. She offered her arm to Fleur as she had done the other night, only this time, she was not in her disguise of Josiah and had nothing the blonde could want (as evidenced by the sole raised eyebrow the other woman looked at her with). Hermione tried to hide the hurt at being so clearly rejected by the object of her affections, the angel that had plagued her dreams since, her presence a cool breeze on a hot summer day, Hermione hadn't noticed that she had stopped itching since the blonde had appeared.

An awkward moment passed between them as Hermione led them out of the Ministry and into the bright afternoon sunlight, blinking as her eyes adjusted. "So," she started nervously and the regal blonde next to her looked over at her and Hermione felt her breath catch, "your name had come up in an investigation."

This sentence gave Fleur pause, and Hermione noticed the affect of her words. That warm feeling that she had felt before increasing, her mind losing its focus on the topic at hand, instead reverting to its single-mindedness that was Fleur. "But you know I am innocent, yes?"

"Of course, it was nothing really, I'm glad we were able to clear this up, really," Hermione stated, wanting to do anything to see the blonde witch smile at her. That warmth was now threatening to swallow her whole. And Fleur, she actually turned and smiled at Hermione, placing her hand on the brunette's forearm, causing Hermione to blush again. It was like a game of cat and mouse with the Veela risking nothing to win every time, rigging the odds to be ever in her favor.

Fleur, knowing the effect she was having on the brunette detective in front of her, decided to up the ante, "I'm sorry to have wasted your time if that was all," she paused there averting her eyes skillfully, "maybe I can make it up to you sometime?" a salacious grin upon her delicate features.

And Hermione, poor Hermione, was stumbling, tripping really, over her words in her haste to agree to the blonde enchantress. "Yes, yes, of course, any time, it really wasn't a problem, you didn't bother me at all but, yes I'd love to see you again. Really, any time again, for that, as well, I mean," she paused to take a breath and calm herself, "Yes. I'd love to." She finished trying to seem much more dignified, though her insides were screaming and doing the macarena much to her embarrassment.

Fleur, currently looked like the cat that got the cream, she leaned forward and gently kissed Hermione on the cheek, a plan already forming in her mind that she could control this investigation and find out if they were close to actually catching her. This would be too easy, the brunette was unable to withstand her charms. She turned and left without another word, her silvery blonde hair flowing behind her, she disappeared into the crowd, a stunned Hermione still standing there, her fingers pressed lightly to her cheek occupying the spot where Fleur's lips had been. It took a long while before Hermione realized she had no way of contacting Fleur, and as disappointment settled in her chest, she began to itch again. But deep down, she knew, if the blonde wanted to find her again, she knew where she would be at.

Hermione turned and began to walk back to her desk, already desperately missing the blonde.

It was a couple days before she would see her once again, Fleur walked into her life just like she had the last time, but this time, she made her presence known with an air of confidence, and unfortunately for Hermione, her thrall. Hermione felt the room shift, as though her very breath was knocked out of her when the blonde appeared, drawing her attention instantly. Hermione was already standing from her spot, ready to greet the blonde, and they disappeared together. This time, when Hermione offered the blonde her arm, it was accepted, and Hermione felt complete. She had missed her mysterious companion fiercely in their time apart, not that she would ever admit it to the (definitely not innocent) woman.

Fleur, her arm linked through Hermione's, led the way, their destination a secret. She led the detective through the streets, conversation between them stilted, Hermione questioning her, and receiving short answers in return. And though this would have seemed like a bad sign to anyone else in the situation, or observing the scenario laid out before them, Hermione was thrilled to be spending time with her love.

Fleur guided them to a small little bar off the beaten path, one that Hermione had never been in before, and when they stepped inside, she knew why. The bartender was a squat little goblin, his long bony fingers drying off a mug with a dirty gray looking towel. His gruff voice rang out "What d'ya want?" They were the only people in the establishment, but Fleur led them to a table in the back corner. Her angelic voice a complete contrast to the grunt of the bartender, "Two of your specials, please."

She motioned for Hermione to take a seat at the rickety wooden chair while she herself sat on the bench against the wall. Two grimy looking mugs appeared in front of them with a strange reddish glowing liquid in them. Hermione looked at her mug cautiously, trying to figure out what exactly the strange concoction in front of her was. Fleur, meanwhile, grabbed her mug and took a long swig, she downed half of it before placing her glass back on the table and looking at Hermione. "It's good, just uh, don't ask what's in it."

A pause, and Hermione found herself drinking the glowing liquid, a not entirely unpleasant burn accompanying it as it slid thickly down her throat.

Looking satisfied with herself, Fleur asked, "Now tell me, how *exactly* it was my name came up in your investigation?"

Hermione swallowed thickly, her eyes going wide, before she looked down at the glass in front of her, playing with it between her hands, sliding it back and forth. The warm feeling that always accompanied Fleur's presence intensified.

"You were seen last Friday," was the meek answer that came from Hermione who was instantly embarrassed that she said it.

"I see. But I do not remember seeing you?"

"No, you wouldn't have. I wasn't there, however all of the other guests were readily identified and nobody remembers inviting you." In truth, nobody had invited Fleur, Hermione wasn't even sure how it was that she was there. Though the gathering had been advertised as a bride search, no one else had come uninvited.

"I was invited by Mr. Harry Potter himself."

Hermione held back a scoff at the lie, she was distinctly aware that Harry had not invited her, or anyone for that matter, but she was secretly admiring the courage with which Fleur spoke, as though that was the truth. Fleur picked up her drink, finishing it off swiftly before motioning for another. Hermione matched her actions, savoring the burn that the presumably alcoholic drink left. She however, was still unsure of what it was that she was drinking.

The bartender dropped off two more mugs in front of them before going back to his duties. Tense conversation flowed, Fleur pressing for more information, Hermione reluctantly giving it, a combination of the alcohol and Fleur's Thrall as she felt excessively warmer than she was when they had first started. After a while, they parted ways, Hermione already longing to be in the blonde's presence again, her body, her soul already calling out. Memories of their first encounter dancing in her mind, images, flashes of color, feelings stirring within her, she formed a plan to meet the blonde again.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Now featuring a Cinderalla-esque subplot nobody wanted :)

* * *

Hermione sent an owl to Rita Skeeter with instructions to publish the note enclosed in its entirety.

 _Dear Miss Skeeter,_

 _I am hoping you may assist me in a rather delicate matter. I would like the letter below published in the next edition of the Daily Prophet. Please do not change or make any additions to the piece. I have contacted you as it will make for a rather juicy piece of gossip for your readers and I know how you can never resist having the best._

 _Sincerely, Josiah Blane_

A separate piece of parchment had the article she wished to have published.

 _Dear Miss Delacour,_

 _I wish you do not begrudge me for trying to contact you in such a public manner, but as you left last Friday without a way to contact you, I was left with few alternatives. I hope these feelings are not merely one-sided as I had enjoyed our time together that evening and have spent the past week searching for you. Unfortunately, there was no luck to be had in locating you. I do so wish you were more than a figment of my imagination as I am dreadfully uncreative and you are a work of God himself. I could spend the rest of this letter praising your beauty and your intellect, would you like that? I fear I could spend days on such a subject as I have grown lonely without your company. I would spend the rest of my life searching for you if only to gaze upon your eyes once more, there is no doubt the feelings I have for you. If you were not just a mere hallucination brought on by too much loneliness, I pray that you will contact me as I'm sure you know how._

 _I will be awaiting you._

 _Ever yours, Josiah Blane._

Hermione folded up the parchment and tied it to the leg of a tawny owl that had taken up residence on her desk as she wrote. She didn't spend long admiring her work as she knew if anyone caught her with such incriminating evidence, she'd never live the embarrassment down. And though she had no doubt about her feelings for the blonde, she was slightly embarrassed at how quickly they had been brought on.

After the owl had taken flight, she attempted to get back to work, though it was to no avail, she spent most of her time doodling on the papers in front of her, her mind currently wandering in search of the French witch.

A plain black owl swooped down and chirped at her, a note tied to its leg. She looked at the owl cautiously, unable to recognize it and unsure of who had written her when it chirped again, angrily this time as its patience was wearing thin. It hopped closer to her and stuck its leg out, demanding that she take it, which she did with an unsteady hand.

The owl took off without waiting for a reply and Hermione checked it over, looking for any sign of curse or hex. Upon finding none, she unrolled the parchment, finding it to be a rather short letter from Bill's ex, Ashleigh.

 _Hermione,_

 _Bill contacted me regarding your issue the other day. I have found out some information, however I'm unsure if it will be of much use by the time you receive this. Fleur is a Veela, and from what I can tell, she and her sister Gabrielle are the last of the Delacour clan. They used to be quite prominent but, there is little information on this subject, something happened and my clan had thought they had all died years ago. If she is in fact from this clan, my grandmother warns, you should be very careful. Obviously, if you are looking into her, you are aware that she is nothing but trouble. However, the Delacours were shall we say, loose in their usage of their thrall._

 _Something that you may not know is that the thrall works as well as it does by creating an addiction in its target, the more they use it, the stronger the addiction until eventually, they die. Fleur will have no apprehension with using it to get what she wants._

 _Please, Hermione, be careful around her, your life may depend on it._

 _"_ Shit," Hermione breathed out upon finishing her letter, she had read it many times over, but the words never changed, there they were in black and white, and she once again scratched absently at her side. That pesky feeling had only gotten worse.

Knowing what that meant, she tried harder than ever to focus on her work. But the only work she could focus on was the case at hand, her notes had been added to with the new information she had received from Ashleigh. But despite this, she found herself decided she would risk whatever it took if it meant she could see Fleur again. All her hope was put into that letter she had sent, and she spent the rest of her workday twirling her quill in her hand, staring at a blank piece of parchment in front of her.

The next morning, Hermione sat at her kitchen table at her home in the countryside, she had found she quite enjoyed the peace and quiet and rather hated the city, when her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ was dropped off, the tiny brown owl swooping in and out without pause. She quickly opened it, looking for Skeeter's column, hoping she would see her letter. She did, below a nice paragraph added on by Skeeter herself, which she had to admit was better than it could have been. Though it certainly wasn't flattering.

 _Our bachelor who was looking for love, seems to have found it last Friday, explaining his sudden disappearance from the spotlight. He seems to rather enjoy pining for his lost love who seems to have disappeared much like Cinderella herself but this time she didn't even leave behind a shoe. Miss Fleur Delacour, whoever you may be, where ever you are, know that you are the envy of thousands of witches all over Britain, any one of which would be more than willing to replace you should you not respond._

"Well," Hermione thought, "I certainly hope this works." And with a small pop, she disapparated.

Paper still in hand, she walked into work, a small smile playing upon her lips, a light skip in her step. She was still going to have to play the waiting game, but she felt confident about this. Though she froze in her step when she opened the door to her 'office' and saw Harry already sitting at her desk.

He smiled up at her and she braced herself for the teasing that was to come as she made her way over to him.

"It does certainly read like you found love Friday. Did you really write that letter?"

A blush quickly colored Hermione's cheeks as she mumbled "Yes," turning away from Harry so as to hide her embarrassment.

Harry turned her back around and looked her in the eyes, "Don't be shy 'Mione, we'll figure something out. You can't help who you love."

She looked at him questioningly which he quickly remedied, "You know I'd never planned on loving Ginny, I mean, she was Ron's little sister, and remember how obsessed she was in our second year?"

Hermione nodded.

"Life just has a way of surprising us sometimes. If you want I'll help you find her."

She stood there silently as he patted her on the shoulder before walking out of the office and back to his own, a slight swagger in his step.

A couple days passed with no news from the blonde to either her or Josiah. Harry and Ron had been by a couple times, checking in with her, running new plans through, not that she could remember, or focus all that well on them, though the mention of Fleur had definitely made her perk up. Her work was slipping and she knew it wasn't fair that they had stepped up to pick up her slack and make it look as though her attention was undivided when it came to catching Aphrodite.

Thursday however had a surprise in store for Hermione as she was sitting at her desk, once again twirling her quill, when Harry walked in a small brown rectangle in his hand. He dropped it on her desk in front of her saying it had been delivered to Grimmauld Place and walked off, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Her fingers shook as she scrambled to open the small letter, beautifully flowing cursive spelling out "My dearest Josiah" on the front, a wax seal with an ornately stylized D on the back. It hurt her to have to break open the seal to read the letter, a task that had given her pause before she decided she had to know the contents more than she wanted to preserve the letter.

 _Josiah,_

 _I hope this letter finds you in a better condition than I had left you in. I apologize for leaving you as quickly as I did, though we both know what the circumstances were. As such, though I find your letter quite touching, I am unsure as to whether or not I should trust the sincerity of your words. Perhaps you are trying to save face? However, I am touched by your actions and if you are in fact being truthful, I will agree to meet with you. Friday at 5 pm, meet me at the Leaky Cauldron. I expect you to be alone and with a single white rose placed by your right hand. If you do not, you will not see me, nor will you hear from me again. I do not give second chances._


	8. Chapter 8

Hopefully this makes sense, sorry if it doesnt, had dialysis today and while I want to write, my mind has just enough focus to watch paint dry and not much more.

* * *

Hermione raced out of the office that day, wanting to prepare for her date Friday as soon as possible. Her nerves were a mess, the blonde witch able to illicit strange feelings from the young brunette. Her hands trembled slightly throughout the evening, a strange new development that Hermione brushed off as simply being nervous for her upcoming date.

Harry had stopped by that evening in an attempt to help her prepare. He had a good feeling about this, despite the unfortunate circumstances they'd met in, and while he'd been mostly oblivious in his younger years (his time preoccupied with other tasks), he had become Hermione's consultant of sorts, aiding her in appearing more masculine as it was never a task Hermione had particularly had to worry about. Though, she was glad to have his assistance truth be told, she did not feel so alone for once.

It was late when they had finally decided upon her clothes for the next day, Hermione had insisted upon dressing formally while Harry insisted, that though it was a date, the location was the Leaky Cauldron and if she dressed too formal, she would seem out of place, and so they agreed on wearing a variation of what Hermione had worn the first time she met Fleur, a different color palette of course, a black shirt with black vest and a crimson tie, and dark wash blue jeans, tight enough to show how well they fit and accentuate some of her curves without being too tight or showing that she was actually quite female.

* * *

Hermione had, unfortunately for her, arrived rather early in her eagerness and so she sat, in the back, alone, a white rose at her side, twiddling her thumbs and gazing around the room, her brown eyes soaking up the details, attempting to commit everything to memory.

The waiter had been around several times already checking in on her, and she had shoo'd him off every time, hoping that Fleur had not arrived and thought she was not alone as had been requested. She was sure she wanted to wait for her love to appear, and no, she had not been 'stood up', she had followed every step with a painful meticulousness.

There was no hiding how her eyes lit up when promptly at 5 o'clock, her eyes spotted a flash of silver-blonde at the doorway and within a second, standing in front of her was Fleur.

Regretfully, her ease was also not to be found as she quickly stood up to greet the French woman and, in her haste, knocked her chair over backwards, drawing attention to them as the bar had (of course) gone eerily silent.

She fumbled, again, attempting to hand Fleur her rose and then making to pull out her chair, her cheeks turning a brighter pink with each misstep, the blonde, to top it all off, laughed at her. Hermione attempted to hide her embarrassment, her eyes turned to the floor, however, there was no 'elegant' way to pick up her tipped chair.

It was only when she sat down that she was able to take in the blonde's appearance, a slim silver dress and a small black clutch, she looked elegant as ever and Hermione secretly wondered if she had a 'casual' side as she'd always seemed overly formal in all of their meetings. Or maybe it was just the French way she mused to herself.

"I had my doubts about your intentions when I saw your letter," Fleur stated plainly, without room for argument.

Hermione's eyes met her gaze, "I hope to gain your trust and show you that my intentions are sincere."

"I hope it does not offend you that I do not trust easily. I have been betrayed many times in life." The waiter appeared, dropping off a couple glasses of water and asking if they were ready to order. Hermione couldn't help but notice that when Fleur ordered her gaze never left the brunette. Hermione, meanwhile, had turned to face the waiter as she spoke to him.

There was a confidence and an air of superiority in her actions that Hermione was slightly envious of, having always felt like an outsider in her own right. Secretly she knew that were it not for the work they'd put into creating this alternate persona of hers, one who was rich and had it all, the world at her fingertips per se, she would never have drawn the blonde's attention.

She felt though, that they were on equal footing like this, Fleur wanting her attention just as much as she wanted Fleur's, something that had been lacking in their other meetings, their meetings where she was just Hermione, and though it stung to know, she would take it and cross that bridge later.

Hermione reveled in the familiar warmth that accompanied the blonde at all their meetings, a soft smile appearing on her face as her eyes began to glaze over.

A smirk, "Ah. So that is it then. My thrall."

Hermione thought she heard a hint of sadness despite the look Fleur sported, a depressed sort of resignation to the situation. She reached out, placing her hand on top of Fleur's, "No, I mean yes, there is that, but no, it's not just your thrall. Fleur," she paused for a moment, steeling herself, "you're an amazing, beautiful woman, and I'm sorry you've been hurt so many times, but I would never do that to you."

Fleur raised an eyebrow, "You are not surprised, why?"

Hermione didn't quite catch on to what Fleur was referring to, "Why what?"

"I mentioned my thrall and you did not question."

"Yeah..." she trailed off, unsure of how much she should reveal, maybe she should have acted surprised instead, it could have avoided this whole situation. Fleur looked at her, waiting for more information. "I kind of already knew that you were... a uh.. you know.."

"Hm," Fleur looked at Hermione coldly, placing her napkin on her plate, "So what is it you want me to do?"

It was Hermione's turn to look confused at the turn of events, "What do you mean?"

An annoyed sigh, "I don't enjoy having my time wasted, surely you can understand that, so tell me, what is it you want me to do? There is only one reason people have ever sought me out and that is to use my thrall."

Hermione realized their date was going south and fast. She would have to do something and soon if she wanted to convince the older woman that she had been honest in her intentions from the start and that the only thing she wanted was a second date (and to spend the rest of her life with her, but it was much too soon for that).

"What do you say to a walk?" she asked, placing her own napkin down on the table. She stood from her chair, having gained her composure since the start of the date, and held out her hand for Fleur.

Fleur looked at her cautiously before slowly accepting it and standing. They walked out of the Leaky Cauldron arm in arm and Hermione guided them down the street, chattering away about things of little importance to Fleur until they were safely out of earshot from any passersby who may have been eavesdropping.

She paused in her steps and turned to Fleur then, "I have been nothing but truthful in my intentions. I desire a romantic relationship with you. It may have been your thrall that first brought us together but since that night I have been unable to remove you from my mind. I have longed to see you again and to hold you in my arms, even if we met under less than ideal conditions. That night was the most pleasurable I have had and certainly the most memorable. I had supposed you were a Veela the next day but with some searching I confirmed my suspicions, and I am fully aware of your thrall, but I doubt even that could be the reason behind your invasion of my thoughts." She cautiously leaned forward, giving the blonde a way out if she so desired before placing a chaste kiss upon her lips, savoring the feeling as though it may be her last.


	9. Chapter 9

It's been a few days, enjoy the long update!

* * *

"Josiah," the blonde whispered, barely above a whisper, and Hermione, for the first time, had the dawning realization that she would have to convince the blonde to believe the truth of her actions, and stepped back away from her companion.

"I apologize if I was too forward in my actions," she looked down ashamed.

The French Veela spoke, slowly, softly, "I want to trust you, to believe there is truth behind your gestures. But it is hard when there is little good in the world."

Hermione nodded, "I will do whatever it takes to prove the truth of my actions."

Fleur looked at her, a soft smile on her lips, "That is something that one does not hear often. I hope I do not scare you off as the tasks will not be easy, nor will they be quickly accomplished." She took Hermione's hand and they resumed their walk, Hermione left to question what these tasks would look like. Though she also questioned how likely it would be that she could complete all of these tasks without revealing her true self.

Her thoughts raced as her body tensed slightly at the realization she had not wished to have and had actively tried to avoid thinking about, the fact that she was Josiah, Josiah was who Fleur was willing to give a chance, and their date (if it could even be called that) earlier in the week had been less than successful.

She paused, a pained expression on her face, "There is something I must tell you first." The words sounded like they came from a foreign voice, one she did not recognize, the moment feeling surreal as she told Fleur. She witnessed Fleur's expression changing, a range of emotions displayed upon it as she was told the truth of how they had met, pain in the young witch's voice. She had put distance between the two of them before she revealed the truth, that she, Hermione Granger, had created the wizard Josiah Blane in an attempt to catch the thief Aphrodite, that she knew the truth of who Fleur really was.

She watched the blonde back further away, panic cascading over her beautiful features, eyes searching for an escape, watching passersby with a renewed sense of vigilance as this confession of betrayal permeated her mind.

Fleur returned to the present, tuning back in as she heard Hermione say "There's no one here, you can go now if you want, I won't follow. I had no intentions of tricking you, this was actually supposed to be a date."

A sad smile, forced upon the brunette's face, still with features that weren't truly her own, the dissonance resonating in her mind. Fleur disappeared without hesitation, regret over trusting too easily invading her mind, she had trusted again despite her life having tried to teach her many times over not to. And now, this time, might be her last mistake, she could lose it all, everything she had worked for, and she had been so careful. Fear seeped in, filling all the cracks, every corner with doubt as tears began to run down her face, she hadn't thought it would hurt so much, they had barely known each other, or really not at all.

She couldn't be sure how much she had been told was the truth. There was nothing to say really, and she'd left suddenly, leaving no trace behind.

Hermione wasn't surprised the blonde had reacted the way she did, truthfully, she had known it was coming. How could it not? She had betrayed the blonde after all, taken advantage of the little bit of trust she had been offered. Her actions raced through her mind, and she wondered if she had done things differently, if there was a way she could have salvaged anything, but as it was, the blonde still plagued her mind, having not vacated that residence she had taken by force, despite her disappearance.

The brunette wandered home, twinges of sadness passing through her mind, she needed to fix this, she had to make it right for the blonde, but how? After all, she was supposed to be hunting her down to arrest her, not trying to pursue a relationship.

She couldn't help but let out a sad chuckle at the sorry state her life had become, since when was it supposed to be this complicated? Why couldn't she just find a nice, normal, law abiding woman to settle down with? She had gotten herself into quite the mess.

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she was not surprised that she had not heard from Fleur after that disaster of a date. Attempting to not wallow further in her depression, she got up and drug herself to work, a new passion ignited within her. She had, despite everything, gained quite a bit of useful information regarding the blonde bombshell.

And though she had promised not to use it against the blonde, she reasoned that it didn't mean she couldn't use it for other purposes. She really had no interest in arresting the blonde, but she wasn't the only one on the case.

Hermione was sure that she had figured out more than the other detectives on the case, but she couldn't be positive without seeming suspicious, or giving others some sort of information. She was resigned to protecting the blonde.

She worked long into the evening without interruption, the only one in the office, it was quiet, her thoughts undisturbed, reminding her of the many hours she had spent in the school library growing up.

Finally, long after night had arrived, she gave up, having made impressive headway into locating the blonde and possibly some of her history, following up on the pieces of information she had collected the previous night regarding the Delacour Clan. Rather, she was forced to stop, the dearth of information on the mysterious Veela finally forcing her hand.

With a resigned sigh, she sent an owl to Bill, practically begging for him to put her in touch with Ashleigh, needing to speak to her about Fleur (and maybe try to glean what information she could about Veelas from her).

Sunday passed without incident, Hermione stuck within her thoughts, piecing together information (what little of it she had), turning over her thoughts, unsure if she had managed to interpret it all correctly, and slightly scared by what the meaning could be.

She was anxiously awaiting a response from Bill, pacing back and forth in her kitchen for most of the day, and when she wasn't pacing she was sat at her kitchen table, drumming her fingers on the discolored wood, her leg shaking, nerves on edge, filled with anticipation.

Monday finally came, and she found herself arriving to work earlier than normal, however she was greeted with an unfamiliar redhead sitting at her desk. Hermione watched her sitting still, back straight, unmoving, legs crossed, purse in her lap, hands folded over it. She wasn't expecting any appointments, she was sure of that. She had barely been able to focus on her work and make any progress in the last week. And as long as she had the Aphrodite case she wasn't expecting any new cases. The woman sat there sure wasn't an auror, she was sure of that.

Puzzled, she approached cautiously, "Can I help you?"

The redhead turned, a wide smile upon her features and spoke with a thick Scottish accent, "Ah you must be Hermione!"

"And you are?"

"Ashleigh, Bill said you needed some help and I thought it would be easier to meet rather than sending owls through him."

Hermione nodded, "Well, can I get you a coffee or tea then?"

"Actually, I wondered if we might go somewhere a bit more private to speak? The Veela are quite private creatures and most of this knowledge is kept private for a reason. I imagine you'll be asking these questions for a reason." She smiled, knowingly and Hermione felt a slight blush upon her cheeks.

"Right. There's a muggle cafe not far from here we could talk at, if that's private enough, or we could try and find a conference room, or I suppose we could always go back to mine."

"The cafe should be," she nodded and stood from her chair, leading the way out and Hermione had flashbacks to the last time a Veela met her at work. This would be interesting she mused to herself.

Easy conversation flowed between the two as they made their way to the cafe, Hermione finding herself laughing at a joke made by the other woman, she could see how Bill had ended up in a relationship with her, she wasn't unattractive either by any means, but Hermione also noted, that despite her being a Veela, she didn't have the same warmth, nor did she draw out the same feelings in the brunette that the blonde did. She supposed it was the thrall, but having only encountered Fleur before, she questioned how it was that she had, even when Fleur seemed distinctly uninterested, fallen under its influence.

They arrived at the small cafe and found a table at the back so as to be farthest away from others and have their conversation relatively undisturbed. Ashleigh ordered a cappuccino and Hermione found herself ordering a latte, their conversation meandering upon less important topics until their drinks arrived.

She added a packet of sugar to her drink and Ashleigh asked, picking up her cup, "Now, I believe there are much more important topics to discuss," a small smile playing upon her features.

Hermione blushed, focusing intently on stirring the sugar into her drink, "You had mentioned that the Delacour Clan was much more liberal in their use of the thrall and I wondered what that meant exactly."

Ashleigh looked at her intently, "I sense that is not the question you want to ask, but very well, we shall start there. The Delacours were known as being hedonists in their day. They still maintain that reputation, though it had been assumed that due to their sudden disappearance they had all been killed. They, unlike the other clans, had found it to their advantage to use their thrall to gain what they wanted, preferring to enjoy all of life's pleasures rather than pass through in anonymity.

My own clan in particular had believed that it was due to this vanity that they had caused their own demise. If this Fleur really is a Delacour and has not simply taken the name to assume a false identity, one could assume with some certainty that she, too, would use it to her advantage. Though, if she took the name as a false identity, I would also bet that she feels some connection to them."

"What happened to them?"

"Other than their egos got too big? They were all hunted. Veelas have, for centuries, been hunted by the magical community to the point that we were nearly extinct until protections were put into place. Since then, our numbers have stayed small and we have preferred our existence to fade into mythology. The Delacours were rather easily found due to their predilections and the last ones were rumored to have been killed off well over 200 years ago."

Hermione couldn't hide the look of surprise that crossed her face.

Ashleigh smirked, "Exactly. It is possible that a few survived, changing their tactics, or becoming better at using their thrall, after all, it is just a rumor. Though it is not a name that is often spoken amongst the Veela that do still exist." She took another sip of her coffee as Hermione thought carefully of her next question.

"The thrall, what is it like? Is there a way one could tell if it was influencing them?"

Another smirk, this time with a playful glint in her eyes, and Hermione gulped, suddenly feeling as though she was about to be a meal, "Would you like to find out?"

The brunette nodded nervously, unsure of her ability to speak. It was only a moment later that she felt drawn to the other woman, a familiar warmth spreading, encapsulating her, she was drawn to the other woman, her beauty increasing, Hermione's mouth going dry, Ashleigh became the only thing on her mind, and she didn't notice herself getting up, approaching the other woman, moving closer to her until it stopped.

Hermione shook her head, as though clearing a fog, she realized she was closer to the redhead, now only a few inches separating them, the Veela sat there, looking confident in her abilities, "Well, Hermione, I didn't know you felt that way," she teased and burst out laughing as the brunette scrambled to put space between them, sputtering an apology.

"Relax, I know you didn't mean it. But that doesn't mean I won't tease you about it."

Hermione sat back down, her face still a bright crimson. She sat in silence, drinking her coffee, until realization dawned on her.

"Your thrall, it felt different."

"Different how?" the other witch questioned, looking intrigued.

"I'm not sure. It felt, similar, maybe the feeling just changes with the individual. But, yours felt like..." She faded off, into thought, taking a drink of her coffee, "it felt like lust? It was warm, and inviting, and like a pull, I wanted to," she stopped suddenly, snapping her mouth shut, her blush returning.

"You wanted sex," Ashleigh filled in, sure of her words, "That is what the thrall is supposed to do."

Hermione nodded, "Yes, so, I wanted," she skipped over the word, still unable to bring herself to say it, "but hers, I assume it was also her thrall, it was warm and inviting also, but it felt familiar somehow, like I'd experienced it before though I'm sure I hadn't. It was almost like being in a lover's embrace. And afterwards, I don't feel anything now, but her, I couldn't stop thinking about her, like I felt like a stalker afterwards, I couldn't stop thinking about ways to see her again or how to find her, I missed that feeling I had when I was around her. And every time I see her, it comes back, every time. I'm not even sure if she's doing anything anymore."

"I wish I could explain that, but I'm not sure. When we're kids and we get upset, our parents will sometimes use their thrall on us, to help us calm down, and it feels familiar, but I've never heard of it happening without any sort of family bond. There are legends that Veelas have mates and that the thrall acts differently with them, can take on a new form, but those are just legends. No one has had or heard of a mate happening in centuries, since before the Veela were hunted to near extinction. And even then it was a rare occurrence, happening so rarely that if one had found their mate, they would become the next Clan Leader.

The legends, at leas the ones that I have heard, were all along the lines of the mate would become near obsessed with their Veela mate upon seeing them, that the thrall wasn't needed for that person to act as though under their influence. The mate would do anything to gain the attention of the other and this feeling wouldn't waver until they had won the heart of the Veela."

"If that was without the Veela using the thrall, what would happen if the Veela did?"

Ashleigh shrugged, "There's not much on that, the stories were told to us as children to try and prevent us from using our thrall on everyone we saw. Some ranged from a medusa effect of them turning to stone, to death, to hatred, or ruining the ability to bond somehow. They were like our versions of fairy tales."

"And is there any other way to tell?"

"No, but, really, I wouldn't worry about it too much, a snowball would have a better chance in hell than you would of being her mate."

Hermione forced a laugh at that expression, but in her mind she was panicking, she hadn't mentioned that since regaining her faculties, she'd felt dirty, like she'd cheated on Fleur and they weren't even together, something was wrong and the blonde witch had returned to her mind with a vengeance after being forced out momentarily.

Their conversation drifted from the topic of Veelas as the time passed, neither in a rush to leave, enjoying the company of the other. She was easy to talk to and easier to get along with. By the end, she was not surprised that she was still friends with Bill despite their failed relationship.

However, when they parted, Hermione had no doubt in her mind. She needed to see Fleur again. Luckily, she'd been able to figure out where to find the blonde after all her work following their date. She wasn't positive of the exact spot, but she had narrowed it down to a couple blocks, a small wizarding pocket that had developed in Muggle London. It was a relatively forgotten area as more popular neighborhoods had appeared.

Hermione found herself, standing on the sidewalk watching, waiting, hoping to catch sight of the blonde. Hours passed and the sun set before she managed to glimpse a flash of silvery blonde, quickly turning to disappear down an alley.

"Fleur! Wait!" She yelled, running after the blonde, she turned the corner into the alleyway and came face to face with the tip of a wand wielded by an angry looking French woman.

"What are you doing here?" she growled, her wand no moving from Hermione's throat.

"I-I had to see you."

"Why?"

Hermione took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her ears, it was now or never and this was likely the only chance she'd ever get, even if the blonde didn't kill her. "IthinkI'myourmate." She forced it out, as quickly as possible, all the words running together.

"What?" Fleur finally lowered her wand slightly.

Hermione slowed down, trying to enunciate each of the words, "I think I'm your mate."


	10. Chapter 10

"Non, that is not possible!" Fleur replied sharply, shoving the brunette roughly against the brick wall of the alleyway. Hermione felt her head crack against the unforgiving material, wincing in pain as the blonde continued to stare at her with a cold glare. The good news was, in being held to the wall, the wand pointed at her neck had dropped slightly, giving her room to breathe.

She put her hands up as a gesture of surrender, showing she was unarmed, "I know it doesn't sound likely, but please, just hear me out on this."

"Very well, but make it quick or I may just decide to kill you after all."

"You accused me of being under your thrall last time we met. Which means you've used your thrall on me."

"Obviously. It was how I planned to rob you after all. This is nothing new." Fleur looked bored with the direction of the conversation, playing with her wand, a slim white piece of wood, intricately carved with unique swirling, looping designs. Hermione watched her long nimble fingers, feeling desire spread through her body.

She gulped nervously before continuing on, "So, my theory, your thrall is an active ability correct? You have to maintain it for the effect to continue on and when you stop, its effect stops."

"Yes, is there some revelation buried in here or are you going to continue to tell me what I already know?"

"I'm getting there but I have to make sure these assumptions are correct, if they are, it will prove what I am saying.

"You haven't used it on me since our first meeting," Hermione stated factually, a smirk playing upon her lips, ready to take the blonde by surprise, but it was she who was taken by surprise instead.

"Incorrect," Fleur chuckled as the younger witch's face fell, her smirk dropping with it, shrinking back into herself, her cocky air disappearing in an instant.

"When?" A small voice asked, unsure of itself, unsure of the world and everything it contained, as though the ground had just vanished beneath her feet.

"The next time I found you, I was going to use you to find out when you were getting close so I could disappear."

"Is that it?" A small amount of confidence returning to the brunette.

"Yes. Surely you knew that already?" The blonde asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

"No, I haven't gone a moment in your presence without feeling it, even now, it took a while for me to realize it, but after you left the first time, I was already addicted. I can feel your thrall reaching out to me, pulling me in and after you're gone I want more."

Fleur seemed unimpressed with this revelation, still playing with her wand, a moment of silence passed before she looked up, "Oh? Is that all? Hmm, I thought there would be more."

Hermione looked shattered, her face falling, her mood deflating, "No, that was it. I know there isn't much information out there, but I think that's it. I think your thall affects me more than others because I'm your mate. When I was being influenced by another Veela's thrall, I was back to normal as soon as it was over, well, mostly normal," Hermione looked down at the ground, almost ashamed of what she was about to admit, "I felt like I'd betrayed you when it was over, I felt wrong, and her thrall didn't feel like yours. I didn't like it like I do yours. And I think that means there's something more between us."

Fleur still looked at the brunette wish unimpressed, "You seem smart, so you shouldn't be surprised to know that there hasn't been such a thing in centuries," Fleur looked away adding as an afterthought, "As if such a thing could happen to a Delacour."

Hermione sensed that to be her chance and dove forward, enveloping the blonde in her arms, holding her close, unwilling to let go, "There's no reason it can't."

A forced laugh erupted from the blonde as she attempted to shove the other woman away from her, "You have just proven your ignorance of the Delacour family. No one who knows of our history would ever say such a thing."

Hermione stood firm in her beliefs, challenging Fleur, unwilling to accept her statements as the truth, "Then tell me what makes you so unworthy of love." She had resisted the attempts to be pushed away, and while there was now space between them, she held firm onto her hands, looking her in the eyes, brown meeting a tearful blue as the Frenchwoman began to try and explain the reasoning for her beliefs.

"My family has long scorned Veela traditions, believing them to be outdated, we have these abilities so why not use them? Why should we hide our gifts, our culture like we are outcasts? I am not wrong so why should I be treated as an abomination? The other families, they believe that we should blend in and not use our gift. They see it as a curse. And because we would not repent, we were exiled - erased from history like common criminals, and so that is what we became. My sister and I, are the last ones. We watched our house burn as children, our parents murdered in front of us simply because of our name. With nothing left we had to survive, one way or another. We do not deserve love just as our parents did not deserve life."

Her voice cracked with emotion and Hermione felt her heart breaking, she carefully wiped away her tears, "I still don't think that makes you undeserving of love, if anything, you deserve more of it." She pulled Fleur back into a hug, noting that this time, she encountered no resistance, the older woman's strength of will faltering as she was shown genuine affection for the first time in a long time.

Hermione stood there comforting her love for a long while, holding her close as Fleur dissolved in her arms, after a long while passed, she whispered, "Come on, let's go somewhere more private." Feeling a nod of agreement against her chest she apparated the both of them back to her home.

So far things had gone better than she could have hoped for, though it was a bit more tense to begin with than she had really expected. But the both of them were now standing in her living room, a fire crackling in the fireplace, casting a warm reddish glow about the room. Fleur had taken a seat upon her couch while Hermione had gone to fetch a pot of tea from the kitchen.

Hermione had used the opportunity to allow Fleur to compose herself once again, knowing the other witch liked to appear presentable even at her worst and felt like she was invading too far into the other woman's privacy. When she returned, the blonde had wiped her tears and, aside from a few quiet sniffles, seemed put together enough, she accepted the cup she was offered with a quiet thank you.

The brunette sat at the other end of the couch, putting as much physical space between them as she could, she'd intruded far enough already. They sipped their drinks in a comfortable silence, neither wanting to speak, the crackling of the fire and the chirping of crickets outside the only sound. Finally, she couldn't wait any longer, "So, what does this mean for us?" She carefully looked at the blonde, her eyes expectant, hope shining in them, the amber color reflecting the firelight.

Her breath caught in her chest as the moment drug on forever, waiting for an answer, time had frozen for her, but it came crashing down, her heart breaking again as she received an answer she should have counted on but had not prepared for, "I don't know."


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry its been a few days since the last update, but my muse kinda went off on a tangent and *shameless self plug warning* theres a new story. if you havent seen it check it out, its definitely a lot more light hearted than either of my stories right now. (yay for bad translation hijinx)

* * *

Hermione could feel her heart breaking, tears threatening to fall, because there really wasn't any sane reason for her to have expected anything but the answer she received. Honestly, she should have been relieved that the other woman hadn't followed through with any one of her threats and was still sitting there on the opposite end of her couch, even if it was an uncomfortably stilted silence.

She refused to fall apart, to bare her soul in front of this other woman, to expose the depth of her emotions in such a short time. She did however, fall back into a stunned silence, staring at the dancing embers before her, her cup of tea largely forgotten.

Fleur too, seemed all too intently focused on the fire in front of her, neither of them willing to break the silence, to show any more weakness to the other. They were both already exposed and vulnerable, silence their only friend in the unknown territory they were about to enter.

Hermione, for her part, should have known better than to expect much of her internal strength, her resolve failing shortly after in the presence of the other woman. That familiar feeling of warmth began to wash over her, and she had to wonder if Fleur had some control over it, the feelings gaining in strength, a fierceness to them that hadn't been there before. She shuddered slightly as her more animalistic desires began to take over. She hadn't noticed the absence of them in their earlier interactions, that her mind had been clear, but now, she couldn't help but wonder how she had managed to keep her distance thus far.

She felt herself moving closer to the blonde, an invisible rope pulling her, guiding her along without shame. Hermione straddled the Veela's lap, bringing herself closer to the other woman, her honey brown eyes had become a dark chocolate, glazed over with lust as she wrapped her arms around the other woman, tangling her nimble fingers in long blonde locks.

Fleur tilted her head back, their lips meeting in a surge of passion, hungrily seeking out the other as she too was overtaken by lust. The heated exchange from their first meeting that had never been brought to completion driving them now.

Touches, caresses, teeth and tongues, they explored each other's bodies fully, illuminated by the softly dying firelight. Their bodies met and melded into one, neither able to distinguish an end from the beginning.

When Hermione woke the next morning, she was alone, and cold. That much was evident by the goosebumps lining up and down her body. Her bare skin unable to provide any protection against the now chilly room. The fire had died at some point in the night and she looked around confused when she woke up. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for someone that they were unable to find. Memories of the passion she had experienced hours before dancing in her mind, teasing her.

She was unable to stop the feelings of betrayal flitting about in her chest. She thought she had experienced heartbreak the night before, but that had nothing on her emotions now. She was alone, naked, laying on her couch, left there after having confessed her feelings and given her all to the other woman.

Tears threatened to fall and her hands found their way into fists as she punched the couch cushions, willing them to take all of her abuse, all of her anger, imagining it to be Fleur, that bitch!

She sniffled as her nose began to run, droplets of water clouding her vision and she screamed. How could she?!

* * *

Hermione was beginning to go crazy if you asked anyone about her. She had spent more time at work than anyone else, poring over the files in front of her, the Aphrodite case consuming her. The other detectives didn't think she was making any progress, but they couldn't understand her notes. Hermione was well aware that she had managed to crack the case, had found out who and where Aphrodite was and how she managed to perform these robberies.

But that wasn't enough for her. She was determined to prove that there was more to the story. She was determined to know her life, to discover some dark secret, and maybe with it the reason for her disappearance. It had been two weeks since she'd last seen her, two weeks since she'd woken up alone on her couch after a night of passionate love making. She was determined she could find some evidence to prove that she was the Veela's mate.

There had to be some proof. Something she could find to prove she wasn't crazy, it wasn't all in her mind. She knew it wasn't, but that wasn't enough, it wasn't tangible. And Hermione relied on tangible proof. She thirsted for knowledge and had discovered so much, books had shaped her world and she was unwilling to believe that they would let her down now.

Hermione was rather rudely pulled from her work as a large calloused hand came into her view, blocking the page she was reading and grabbed her book, slamming it shut. She looked up, fury burning in her eyes to see the understanding green eyes of Harry looking back at her.

"Take a break, you've earned it 'Mione."

"I can't, I have to find her."

"You will, but for right now, you need a break. Grab your cloak, we're going out for drinks."

He stood there, looking at her expectantly, staring her down, daring her to open her book again, until finally, with an annoyed sigh she stood from her desk, her joints cracking from a lack of use.

"Alright, let's go," she said despondently, agreeing to go along with his scheme only because it would mean she could return to work sooner rather than later.

He stood firm, gesturing for her to go first, "Ladies first," he said slyly, knowing her tricks all too well. She glared at him and walked towards the door.

"Leaky Cauldron?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

He nodded, "Yep, Ron and Ginny are already there."

They walked in silence, Hermione's thoughts wandering to the case but diverting themselves sharply when she thought she saw a flash of light blonde hair in the crowd ahead. Her eyes scanned the area, hoping to catch it again but there was no trace of Fleur and she told herself she was imagining things.

They entered the bar and made their way to the other two, already nursing butterbeers. Ginny smiled when she saw Hermione, perking up at the sight of the brunette, but that was nothing compared to Ron's reaction as he began waving wildly and hollering.

"You made it!" Ron had a slight flush to his face, he was obviously not on his first butterbeer when they arrived, if his excited behavior was any indication.

The group began talking animatedly, drinking and sharing stories from the field. Time flew by and so did the drinks, so much so that when a blonde figure approached Hermione prodded Harry repeatedly, "Guys, I think I'm seeing things."

Ron turned to follow Hermione's eyes, "Nah, unless I'm seeing them too, if you're seeing a blonde angel that is."

Fleur approached the group, focusing only on Hermione, "I have made a mistake."

Hermione's world began to spin with those five words, her love was standing in front of her once again and she couldn't be sure it wasn't a very vivid hallucination.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Weekends over again, so back to work (and nightly updates) side note... my wife caught me reading another story earlier and was teasing me about reading my "lesbian smut" as she calls it... little does she know... i thought about telling her i dont just read it but... anyways enjoy some "lesbian smut" that doesnt contain smut... at least not in this chapter.

* * *

"Bloody hell, 'Mione, you know her?" Ron asked in a loud whisper, turning to the brunette, gaping.

Hermione blushed and nodded her head. She wasn't sure what was happening, this was a situation she'd never imagined in her wildest dreams. Thankfully, Harry was a quick thinker.

He pulled up an empty chair to their small circle, and motioning towards it, "Here, sit, we were just having a couple of drinks, you're welcome to join us."

Fleur gave him a small smile, looking slightly nervous, she crept towards the chair and sat down, staying on the edge, unsure of how much to relax around this group of aurors.

"Can I get you a butterbeer?" Harry asked, already standing from his seat, "Rounds on me guys."

Everyone quickly agreed to another, Ron taking a long swig from his mug, finishing it off before making a cheers motion with the empty glass. He walked off, leaving the small group to chat nervously. Hermione still hadn't responded to Fleur who had so far just glanced nervously around the group. Ron hadn't been able to stop staring at the blonde which didn't help.

Hermione was doing her best to ignore the blonde sitting next to her, talking to Ginny about how her Quidditch tryouts had gone. The youngest redhead had been the only one in their inner group to not become an auror. Her proclivities were for the sport, and since finishing school she had been travelling trying out with different teams hoping to secure a spot as a professional player.

"How did you do this time?"

"I feel good about it, don't want to jinx myself by saying too much though, but let's just say I didn't fall off my broom this time," she let out a deep laugh at that, remember her last try-out in which she'd been so focused she didn't see the bludger hit towards her and been knocked off her broom by it. It had wounded her pride more than it had hurt and when she'd been turned down, it wasn't a big surprise to anyone.

Ginny had doubled up her practicing though and for weeks had done nothing but eat, sleep and train for the next tryouts.

"Which team was it this time?"

"The Holyhead Harpies."

Harry arrived back at the table, clutching five butterbeers in his hands, foam sliding down the sides of the mugs as he tried to keep it from spilling. They were filled to the brim and sloshed over the edges as he placed the mugs on the table. Fleur looked up at him, thanking him as she reached for a mug. Her fingers grazed Hermione's and she blushed at the contact. The brunette hastily grabbed for another, pretending they hadn't touched, doing her best to ignore the tingling in her hand.

"So Fleur," Harry started and the blonde tensed in anticipation, "we were just talking about this muggle debate about pineapple on pizza, what's your thought?" He finished the question with a cheeky grin and the rest of the group turned to her, looking at her expectantly.

"Well," she spoke slowly, carefully, and Harry nodded at her to continue, "I'm not really sure what 'pizza' is, so I can't say if pineapple belongs on it."

The rest of the group looked at her affronted before Ginny laughed, "It's okay, neither did we" she motioned between her and Ron, "until those two introduced us to it."

Ron jumped in, "It's like a large round piece of dough covered in this red sauce and cheese and whatever other toppings, bloody good it is."

"I suppose I'll have to try it sometime," she said softly, her eyes shifting to look at Hermione as she picked up her mug and took a sip of her drink.

Hermione looked at her, a blush rising in her cheeks before she looked down clearing her throat, "There's no way it goes on pizza, it's a fruit for God's sake."

"Now, hold up just a minute 'Mione, I think you're forgetting about fruit pizza! Or dessert pizza!"

"Gin, nobody counts those as pizza! It's named after it but it's not pizza, just like how nobody thinks a fruit cake is actually cake," Hermione countered, and the two of them began debating the merits of putting pineapple on a pizza, Hermione was strongly against it. Harry just sat back in his chair with a smile and drank his butterbeer slowly.

Fleur just watched the argument happen between the two redheads and Hermione until finally Hermione had had enough.

"Right, that's it," she turned to Fleur, "You're the fifth person here, you'll be the tie breaker."

"But I have never had this pizza and cannot make any decision?"

Hermione stood abruptly and pulled Fleur up, "We're going to get you a pizza then." She turned back to the group, "We'll finish this later," was all she said before she pulled Fleur out of the Leaky Cauldron, set on her mission.

The pair stepped out into the cool evening air, a slight shiver running up Hermione's spine and Fleur shuffled closer, savoring the contact between them. The sun had mostly set, sending hues of pinks and yellows, casting long shadows. They disappeared off into muggle London, Fleur being drug along behind a determined Hermione.

"This place is my favorite," she said pulling them into an empty pizzeria, a flashing open sign in the window. Fleur looked around, unfamiliar with her surroundings. The tiles alternating in a tacky black and white checkerboard pattern, the counter in front of them supporting a glass wall. There was a large metal contraption behind that and a rotating display case in the corner next to the windows. A large man wearing a red polo stood behind it, his apron was messy stained with red sauce.

"Hey Marco," Hermione greeted the man.

"Hey Hermione, how's my favorite customer?" he asked cheerfully.

The brunette stepped up to the counter, dropping Fleur's hand, "My friends and I are trying to settle the debate of pineapple on pizza. Can I get a large half Hawaiian, half meat so we can try and decide this once and for all?"

He let out a hearty laugh, his hands coming up to his belly as he threw his head back. "Of course you can! And I hope you are able to make the right decision," he said with a wink before setting to his task.

Fleur watched with rapture as he pulled out a ball of dough and quickly worked it in his hands, flattening it out quickly and tossing it, spinning in the air before he caught it again. In practiced perfection he ladled out the red sauce, spreading it over the now flattened dough before throwing toppings on, she watched pineapple and ham spread heavily on one side before he covered the other side in ham, bacon, pepperoni and sausage. Her focus never wavered as he placed the pizza in the metal box behind him and she watched it disappear from view.

Hermione stood next to her, laughing silently at how intently she watched the process.

"What happens now?" she whispered to the brunette, unable to see the pizza.

"It's cooking, it'll be done soon."

"Why must it take so long?" she asked, a hint of whine to her angelic voice.

"Because there's no such thing as magic," she answered with a wink.

Finally, (it took much too long in Fleur's opinion) the man, Marco, was pulling the pizza out with a large stick and placed it in a box, then rapidly passed a strange wheel over it multiple times before handing it to them.

Fleur looked at it with eager eyes, "Can we eat it now?" a hint of childlike excitement overcoming the normally reserved woman.

Hermione nodded, opening the box, "Be careful," she said in warning, but it went unheeded by the blonde who was already reaching for a slice of the meat covered side.

She quickly took a bite before yelping, "It's hot!" Hermione laughed and closed the box back up, enjoying the blonde's antics as she attempted to cool the slice.

"I told you so!"

"You said to be careful, you did not say it was hot!"

"So what do you think?"

"It is quite good, this pizza. How did muggles come up with such a thing?" They had begun to walk back towards the Leaky Cauldron, pizza in hand.


	13. Chapter 13

I guess it's been long enough, here's an update :)

* * *

Their childish debate had gone on, long into the night. Fleur had decided she did not like the taste of pineapple on pizza, much to the disappointment of the Weasley's, Ginny vowing to get a fruit pizza to change her mind, and Hermione continuing to insist that 'fruit pizza' was not 'pizza' despite the use of the word pizza and their similar appearances.

They'd all had several rounds of butterbeer and had stumbled out of the Leaky Cauldron as the bar closed. Ginny falling into Harry's side just ahead of Fleur and Hermione. Ron walked awkwardly to the side, closer to Harry and Ginny, though definitely feeling like the third wheel.

Without the group close by and comfortable surroundings of the Leaky Cauldron, conversation became awkward, stilted and tense between the two women. Hermione inwardly cringed as she attempted to talk to the blonde once more, the alcohol and the effects of Fleur's thrall invading her senses, scrambling her thoughts even more.

"So, uh, what... uhm," she cleared her throat, "what brought you here tonight?"

"'onestly, I do not know. Maybe we can talk?"

"Y-yeah, sure," she looked at Fleur expectantly.

"Alone." It was barely above a whisper but the look shared between them conveyed everything.

"Of course." The stilted silence once again resumed as the group trudged on.

They arrived at Harry's home soon enough, it was much safer in their inebriated state to use the Floo Network than to try and apparate. And so, without much fanfare, the group parted ways.

Hermione had, by this time sobered up considerably, though she was still feeling the effects of Fleur's thrall making thought difficult as she was continuously drawn to the blonde. She crossed the room, putting space between the two women, hoping that the space would help clear her thoughts as images of her jumping the woman flitted across her eyelids. She was amazed she'd managed to stop herself earlier.

"Could we start over?" The question broke the silence, Hermione wasn't sure who asked it. The voice sounding alien in the darkened room.

No reply came. A moment passed, and the shock faded, Hermione responded with a nod, then her voice caught up, "Yeah."

A burst of light casting long shadows across the room, Fleur tucked her wand back into its holster. Yellowish orange light illuminating her pale face, a slight smile appeared, nervous in her actions, she made her way to the couch and took a seat in the corner.

Hermione followed, sitting in the opposite corner, silence resumed between the two. They began to speak at the same time

"So-"

"Wha-" They both stopped, a nervous chuckle escaped from Hermione, Fleur looked at her expectantly.

"Go ahead."

"What do we do now? I can't just pretend you haven't broken the law."

"Zat is up to you," Fleur nervously fidgeted in her spot.

That certainly wasn't the answer the brunette had hoped for and she looked at the floor, lost in thought. She certainly didn't want to arrest the other woman but her boss would be expecting some results soon. She could quit, but then what would she do? And wouldn't someone else eventually crack the case? This wasn't a situation she'd even imagined herself in and she wasn't sure what the right thing was. Her mind screamed at her that she should arrest the thief but her heart told her to run away, disappear with the woman and hope they were never found.

"I don't know what to do," she pleaded with the other woman, looking up slowly, hoping that someone would tell her what to do next.

Fleur inched closer, "I cannot tell you what to do," her hand slowly reached out, "but I can only say what I would do in your position." Her tone was depressed, "I would have arrested me already, eager to further my career, but I have never allowed myself to have what I want."

Their eyes met, slowly, cautiously, searching each other out, wanting, needing. A pink tongue wetting red lips, Hermione's eyes dropped, catching the action before they came together, lips crashing in a messy kiss, desperation touching at the corners. It felt like home, she noted melting further into the blonde, common sense telling her this was wrong, that she shouldn't want it, telling her to do the right thing and end it now before she was too attached, but it was already too late, had been too late since their first meeting.

She finally pulled away, regaining her senses. A soft "I'm sorry" was whispered between them before she did what she had to do and took the blonde into custody, a tear trailing down her cheek as she bound Fleur with her magic and took her wand.

* * *

The next morning the precinct was abuzz with the news of Aphrodite's arrest, every witch and wizard had stopped to congratulate Hermione, though the young witch was not proud of her actions.

Amelia Bones had called her to her office already, impressed with her work, they had spent the majority of the morning going over the details of the case, wanting to make sure it was airtight, she wouldn't let Aphrodite be freed over a technicality. Of course, that was what Hermione was hoping for, or a loophole or well, anything really, because she knew if the blonde was convicted, she'd never see her again.

Visitors weren't allowed to Azkaban and that was where she'd be sentenced to. As it was, she was still currently being held at the Ministry, waiting until she could be transported there. There wasn't much hope for the other witch, Veritaserum was likely to be allowed at the trial which was really just a formality.

The evidence against Fleur was too strong, she had after all used her thrall in an attempt to rob Hermione, and could be placed at every crime scene, in fact, her thrall would likely be her downfall as the victims were drawn to her.

She also knew that the Wizengamot would be hesitant to release the blonde to her given her abilities. And so she headed to the holding room, hoping to avoid being caught by anyone. At this point it was unusual for anyone to need to visit the prisoner.

Borrowing Harry's invisibility cloak would have been much easier but she was desperate to see Fleur and logical thought was beginning to escape her in her need.

She slipped through the last door easily enough, almost too easily, she thought when out of the shadows stepped two guards, wands drawn. The guard on the right shouting "Petrificus Totalus!" and Hermione felt her body go stiff.

The guard on the left smirked and called for Amelia Bones, "Looks like we've got ourselves an accomplice."

The stern witch soon appeared, circling around Hermione, hands behind her back, "Well, I should have known."

She paused, stopping to examine her young protege closely, "Your behavior of late has been quite strange, I had begun to wonder about you, but this, I didn't think you'd try something as stupid as this."

She stopped her monologue, patting down the brunette in search of her wand. When she located it, she quickly took possession and cast Rennervate. Hermione dropped to her knees, feeling lightheaded after being frozen in position for so long.

"Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Really? Then why are you down here?"

The silence stretched on as she searched for a valid excuse. Staring at the stone floor, she racked her brain, but nothing came to mind, there was no reason she could come up with that wouldn't make her seem like an accomplice.

"Well?" Amelia had grown impatient and began to demand an answer.

"I'm not sure," she spoke softly, "sh-she must have been using a spell on me." Her heart broke as she spoke the words aloud, but she couldn't end up like Fleur, if she too was behind bars, she'd be useless in helping her love.

Strong hands grabbed her roughly as she was hauled back onto her feet and pulled out of the room. They let go of her before entering back into a public space, Amelia looking at her firmly, "I'm sure it was a spell and nothing more." She looked Hermione in her eyes, as if daring her to say something else before continuing on, "As such, I am going to put you on leave, you've been working too hard with this case. Go home and don't come back until after the sentencing or else I will be forced to take a more severe action with your transgression. Understood?"

Hermione had no choice, nodding solemnly, she left the premises. Her mind was already working on another plan to free Fleur.


End file.
